Halo: Modern Warfare Evolved
by Heatwave222
Summary: When the nuclear explosion consumed the Force Recon Marines. Paul Jackson thought he was dead. Now thrust into a despairing future. And with secrets lurking just beyond the horizon. With genocidal aliens at all fronts. The future couldn't be better.


Halo: Modern Warfare Evolved

Chapter I: Out of the Heat

Authors Note: Well here is the rewrite. You'll notice a lot might be the same this first chapter. And that more will be different. I'm hoping more people will review in this one. And that this will become a better story. I plan on putting Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 in here as well.

-

An eruption of thick, black smoke poured from the seams of the Sea Knight. An M4A1 Carbine aimlessly hung from in a man's loosen grasp. His armor near profligated with bullet holes, lacerated with very close encounters with sharp knifes intended on drawing his blood. He inhaled deeply into the cigarette as he felt the tandem rotor blades of the USMC CH-46 helicopter spin as faster as it's mechanical parts would allow them. Associated Force Recon Marines sat or stood nervously, trying to situate themselves to any sort of comfort knowing the city they occupied was radiation-filled city.

The comm system was filled with chatter, mostly from airborne units fleeing as far as they could from the city. But still trapped ground forces and NEST teams sounded off occasionally. Tension rose heavily, hanging in the air like a stain on shirt that even bleach wouldn't remove. It was almost madness.

But Sergeant Paul Jackson blinked erratically, feeling his shot nerves course through his pumping blood. His mouth moistened more with every drag of the cigarette. Sweat rolled down from his face, and sinking and sitting into his combat fatigues. Drenching him, and weighing his down more than needed. Lieutenant Vasquez cursed heavily and loud that everyone in the encrypted comm waves could hear. Jackson felt the sweetness just mount in his mouth as they edged away from city.

Then, as God had intended them to never leave the city. His comm ignited in a high pitch yell only a women could accomplish. His ear stung and struck with a pain that he had felt once ago. Blood dribbled, giving him flashbacks of one of his more hellacious firefights.

"_I'm hit! Repeat, I'm hit!_" One of the AH-1 Super Cobra pilots yelled into comm.

Smoke filed into the sky, to partly blacken the light baby blue sky. The Super Cobra spun with a viscous velocity. It slammed and collided with a building in the middle of a three way, dirt road intersection. Burning rubble fell from the building around the Cobra assault helicopter.

Mutters echoed throughout the Sea Knight. He felt his comm pitch once more with Vasquez voice trailing in.

Paul didn't pay much attention to it. But he heard, "_It's your call_." All hope of leaving the city was shredded from his body with those words. He knew Vasquez, no man left behind. That was there way. Paul couldn't object, if he was down there, he'd want to be rescued also. He felt the long, heavy helicopter start to descend for the next go-around.

"Jackson! Your taking point, grab that pilot, and haul ass back to the Sea Knight. We'll cover you."

A voluminous gust of wind swept the perimeter, sending dust and dirt in every direction of a perfect circle with every sweep of the rotatory blades. Jackson was the last out of the Sea Knight. And spanned the distance of the group easily with his leg muscles tightly at work. The first down the street, not far off. He could see involuntary burst of light flash in the cockpit. The Cobra pilot firing her M9 pistol, to try and hold the approaching terrorist off long enough to be extracted.

Paul assessed the terrain, as well as the situation therein, all in the blink of an eye. Assuring himself he could obtain reasonable cover to stay shielded from hostile fire, while retrieving the Cobra pilot. His sprint ended as he reached the Cobra pilot- in the twisted and mangled cockpit. He swept the area with his eyes as he dug in. Watching the clutch of Middle Eastern terrorist converging upon their position. The blood in his body warmed as he saw more enemies emerged from what seemed like thin air; like they melded with environment like a mirage. But, this was there turf, home field advantage. He sprayed the incoming hostiles with a heavy dose of M4A1 fire, bullets flying from his muzzle. The second after, he grabbed the pilot. She screamed in pain as the bloodstains on her pant legs darkened and swelled very rapidly. Pulling her free, they could both feel bullets whiz by their heads, with more pelting the ground by their feet, nipping at the toes.

Lifting the pilot in a crude way, over her stout arms, he ran from the incoming hostiles. Her weight bogging him down increasingly, he was winded almost before he ran. But he endured the pain for both of their sakes, putting his eyes straight forward where friendly forces laid down suppressing fire. The others retreating by two with everyone he pasted. He clambered up the metal ramp, Lieutenant Volker waving the marines to hustle.

Emerging himself from the dust he placed the pilot softly on a seat and did the same to himself on the other side. Hearing the heavy pounding of titanium and boots as the Sea Knight lifting into the air once more. The main rotor churning the air with every second. Moving as fast as they could, they rejoined dozens of other Sea Knights and Super Cobras that littered the air space.

But there victory was short lived, even with everyone's prayers whispering from there mouths. A giant mushroom cloud of fire and ash enveloped from the center of the desert city. Anyone in range of the colossal blast, would have died along with there hopes. The terrorist had one; dozens, if not hundreds of U.S. Casualties would be tolled.

"Holy shit." Where Paul's last few mumbled words. Watching every building behind them crumple. Every helicopter spin out of control and crash from an invisible wave of EMP saturation.

The advancing incredible force had reached the safety of their own Sea Knight. The tail rotators blew on contact, adding to the ash that flooded the fresh air. Flaming metal belching the air as they entered a abominable tail spin. The bay became a spinning whirlpool of bodies and metal. Paul watched as Volker had lost his footing, heading straight out of the ramp. Risking him own chance of survival, he reached out to grab him. But he failed as Volker's screams, along with Paul's where blocked from the swirling air and waving heat.

Seconds more pasted, and then the initial collision ran over the Sea Knight. Lifting Paul all the way around the bay of the Sea Knight. The Sea Knight had crashed.

Paul looked around hazily once he felt the skidding of the helicopter had stopped. Very unaware he had suffered a great amount of physical trauma. Paul had never ended outside the helicopter like he intended, but inside the wreck. Laying in the middle of the aisle of the troop bay. Warm blood blanketed his once tan complexion. Soon dripping off his face. And then, everything went black for only God knows how long. Gripping barely onto consciousness. His heartbeat stuck between his ears, listening to the cries of pain and help.

The gruff voice of Vasquez somehow managed to penetrate his near busted ears. Only hearing the spilled words of "Sorry", and "I failed". And after awhile, every voice, every footstep, and every cry, had died out. The only sound now was the harsh echoing of searing wind. He was alone, once more in his life. And he was going to die this way also.

He forced his bleeding eyes open. Sparks flared in the bay as he crawled his way forward. A single marine corpse was sprawled out in front of the cockpit. His vision was so hazed, he couldn't tell if he was alive or not. But he never move, summing it up very well. But, he needed to assure his own safety, before addressing others, he crawled on.

Broken glass and twisted metal strewn all over the floor, blood seeping from every wound with every meager advance.

Soft babbling emitted from cockpit somehow, the radio negociated a small signal. Glancing back at a fallen marine, he grabbed the dog tags. It was Vasquez. Paul had never seen him like this- so peaceful, lifeless and inert. It scared him, he didn't want that to be his fate. He strained his sluggish body more, calling upon every ounce of muscle and willpower to leave the broken Sea Knight.

Once free of the metal carcass of the beast. Red dust kicked into face as he panted for breath. Pain invaded one side of his chest, obvious one of his lungs had collapsed in the collision. He forced himself to his feet, even with the pain-soaked body. Everything in sight was red. The air, the dust, even the building breaking in the distance. Panting with air, he took several steps, each one rewarded with more corpses of fellow marines. And he couldn't just take the pain and horror anymore.

His legs malformed, faltered and sent him crumpling to the dust with a hard impact. His fruitless crawl continued for a few seconds, before realizing there was no point. No reason. He gave up. The once warm blood of his face, was now a grim, icy cold. Another building fell apart in the distance, blotches of blinding white light starting to fill his eyes. Soon, nothing was visible. And became one with the light.

–

United States Forces Casualties:Three-Hundred-One, counting

Sergeant Jackson, Paul

1st Force Recon Co.,

Status... Killed in Action

–

An engine roared densely in the street, that rippled around from another half a dozen streets. The sound of hundreds of bullets being spat out stirred along with every second. The solitary warthog leaving a trail of dust in it's wake. Leaving Covenant corpses where it could, it's heavy mounted machine gun still burning a fiery carmine color. The warthog itself, looked like it seen better days. Much of it's paint had been burned off and now scorn with blemishes. The plating was filled with dents and multicolor blood upon it's hood.

But the passengers where in a much worse condition. Cuts, scrapes an bruises had melted upon their skin like a tattoo, blood unraveled allover there once crisp armor. The driver of the warthog, had medical wrap tapped around his head, blood seeping through, sticking out clearly against the white. His fatigues where lacerated to the point beyond repair. The passenger, had more medical cloth over his left eye. He gripped his sides in pain, unmistakable with several broken or fractured ribs, even with what medical supplies they had, he still felt the unbearable pain. The gunner, could just feel his shoulder and right arm tighten in pain, the second degree burns taking there price on him now, even the coolant gel that had been rubbed on it, couldn't keep the fervent pain for stinging severely.

Master Sergeant Keith Murphy made a right turn very sharply, without even a thought of slowing down. The chain gun roared to life once more, his HMD identifying Corporal Myra manning the mechanical beast. While, Lance Corporal Fitzpatrick kept himself low as possible, trying not to fall out of the speeding warthog. A trio of grunts fell to the cement, paved in their own blood, a bright blue that stood out above all.

"_Checkmate Five to Juliet Six-Two_. _Do you copy_?" The comm rang out, the background hoarse with gunfire and yelling that could be considered grave.

"Juliet Six-Two here." Murphy responded back, still pressing the warthog to it's limit.

"_Where the hell are you_! _The entire Company is being pounded_!" The Company's XO yelled into the comm.

Keith felt his mind flex for a minute, thinking of the Company designated 'Checkmate'. How the Covenant must be murdering them in cold blood once more. Like every time. Memories flashed throughout Murphy's mind.

"Where almost there!" He yelled back, making another sharp left. "ETA one minute. I hope you have a plan, and don't expect a few guys to change the tide."

"_Don't worry_. _I do, Checkmate Five out_."

The link died and more chain gun ammunition spat at passing Covenant. They cluttered the city, hundreds of Covenant it had to been. At every nook and cranny. Jackals feel under the heavy gunfire, joining the ranks of the dead. Another minute passed, and hell itself had lifted it's eyesight onto him. They where in an apartment complex, quite a sizable one. It crawled with Covenant. With the UNSC marines keeping them at bay inside several different complex buildings. The warthog came head on with more plasma-based fire. The strengthened armor taking it head on. Murphy watched as the chain gun mowed down Covenant at will, a dozen fell within seconds, while more impinge on the hood of the UNSC vehicle.

But the trios luck had run dry once more, as one of the tire's exploded in a pink mist that made Murphy guard his face. He steered away from the Covenant as far as he could as half a dozen Jackals converged upon them, with many more aiming for them. He screeched the warthog to a stop as Myra fended off the attackers for the split second they needed. Keith's military mind dipped right into the battle as he worked fast. Snaffling his M6G PDWS pistol. Brute spikes flung through the air, catching his breath and holding it as Myra dived off and onto the cement. Returning fire once more from his MA5C ICWS assault rifle.

Some of the marines from the apartments had braved and periled there own lives, in order to lay down better oppressing fire. Firing twin shots from his M6G, one bullet bounced of the energy shield of a Jackal. While the other slipped through, piercing the eye of the vulture, sending it crumpling in a blood curdling scream. After that, he grabbed Fitzpatrick, yelling in pain from his ribs as blood dabbled from his mouth.

He carried the soldier as fast as he could, feeling plasma and other inhuman projectiles swarm around him life flies. He watched as a pair of marines fell, needler rounds shredding them, leaving smoking flesh in it's wake. He entered the nearest apartment complex, with Myra and other marines right behind them. He didn't need to call for a medic, one was already on standby, just awaiting the patient. He felt Fitzpatrick's body leave his protect, and off somewhere into the building. Myra didn't waste time, already hopping onto a nearby portable machine-gun, leaving death in his path.

"Master Sergeant Murphy?" A voice called out.

The building shook slightly as gunfire and more explosions seemed to increase as he turned to the figure. A marine stood by him, his face covered in bandages, he winced in pain as he addressed Murphy once more.

"Captain Cole wants you on the top floor asap. We'll keep things under wrap down here." He said, another shout came out, and he scrambled off back into action.

Keith did the next best thing, doing a heavy jog up the long flight of stairs. Passing several wounded, or dead marines. Groans of pain echoed out, Murphy could feel his own wound start to act up, a wild headache knocked on his door. He moved up the next flight, passing a medic who was tending a pair of wounded. He needed some aspirin. More flights of steps bellowed his name, and he kept climbing, until he reached the top. Several sniper teams where positioned in windows, working there way through Covenant ranks, trying the stop the horde.

"Murphy! Over here, son."

He turned his head, to see a tall, lean marine waving him over. He stood over a holographic map of the complex, with several spots highlighted. He held his ground as the apartment shook once more, dust falling from ceiling.

"Glad your finally here. I doubt we have much time to execute our plan."

"What exactly is our plan, sir?" Murphy questioned, pressing his fingers lightly against his aging wrap.

"We've got plenty of explosives, and we're going to use them. Our demolition team has already set them up here in the first apartment. There are four more. I want you and your team to escort them, I don't have another squad to spare, without risking holding our position. Once you've place the last explosive, we'll retreat to secondary position and await for extraction."

"You can count on us."

Murphy turned, when Cole called him once more. "Take this, it's better then that pistol." Said Cole, tossing his a MA5C.

Keith felt the rifle slid right into his palm as he placed the pistol in his magnetic holster. He finally felt complete, having the proper weapon to kill with. He just felt like the efficient soldier he was again. He didn't waste time, feeling the heat start to rise around the nape of his neck. It made him uncomfortable, but only slightly. The minute that it took to go down the stairs once more was easy. Grabbing Myra and linking with the demolition team was easy. But that first step back out onto the battlefield, was hard. Leaving protective safety, was always hard in wartime, but it what was the risk for humanity for every little step.

Keith evaluated the area, knowing every inch they stepped was another closer to Covenant. Sweat accumulated in the middle of palms, feeling it drip from the cheeks as well. He dropped himself behind a obliterated civilian vehicle. Myra was right behind him, the two of them combining gunfire to draw enough fire away from the demolition team. Keith's gunfire sprayed along the power armor of a minor brute. It's kinetic absorption causing it stumble as it absorbed the 7.52x51mm Full Metal Jacketed rounds. The thirty-two round magazine ran dry, making that clip that made any soldier curse.

He ducked back behind the refuge of the car, hearing the metal twist and distort from plasma fire, to become molten slag. Myra popped up right after him, adding his own gunfire, Murphy slammed the fresh clip, and rejoined, the brute's armor failed, it's once dark blue color, now faded away with no power source. Bullets cut into it's thick hide, it bellowed loudly, but the blood filled it's lungs, with no hope for survival, it bent awkwardly and fell. Jaw at a slack. A louder crack made tintinnabulation wave through his ears.

Another brute had dropped immediately, Keith hadn't even seen the charging brute. Now, it lay dead with it's brains and blood varnished upon the concrete. Keith didn't waste time.

"Move! We'll lay down cover! Don't stop until you reach the building. We'll meet up once we can!"

The demolition team moved on his command, at full sprint. Keith popped from cover once. Yelling out as he felt two green oval plasma burst connect against his chest. He felt pain swell over his chest, even as the armor deteriorated, but still keeping it from reaching his lungs. But another hit, and that might just be the end of it from him. He crouched behind cover once, feeling his chest swirl in somesthesia once more, he tried to catch the breath he lost as his comm clicked.

"_We made it_. _We're setting up the charges now, it'll be three minutes_."

"Good-" Keith gasped out. "We'll be there." He barely hazed out.

Myra crouched next to, he could feel his hot breath against his face. And it was hot enough already with the sun ablaze and his blistering wound. "You need to get that wound checked out."

"No." Keith snapped. "We.. Don't have time. I'm fine. I'll get it checked out later."

The conversation was cut short, a plasma grenade had neatly bounced just behind them. The pair where stunned for a minute. Then reacted quickly by bolting over the car. The next second, an explosion of calefacient, fiery blue mass of sparking flames rippled where they had once stood. The car itself, leaped into the air for a split second, and then came crashing down on it's top. The small quake had caused the couplet to spill to the ground. Shards of the car and bits and pieces of concrete came down like hail.

Following the hail was rain, but plasma-like rain. Green rain. The soft grass they laid in, either- shriveled up, or burned on contact from plasma. From the prone position, full metal jacketed rounds where flung at the group of grunts. A pair meet a fatal end, one trying to flee, the rounds pierced it's methane tank, igniting it in an explosion that consumed another. It ran around until it's wounds made the small creature succumb and perish. Myra had cut down another three, just another clump of corpses adding to the rank. While the last two had retreated somewhere to a safer distance. The marines did a push up, to float nimbly to their feet, and sprinted. Feeling more baking hot plasma flying past their necks.

Passing several agglomerations of marines, they had reach destination two. Keith was first in, feeling somewhat... better, now that he was in better, sturdier cover of the building. Blood streamed gently on the tile floor, refined puddles of body fluid where everywhere. Marines of Checkmate Company where constantly moving, fighting for every extra second, for there life.

"Are the charges set yet?" Keith murmured into the comm, trying to let his lungs relax for the brief period.

"_We just finished placing the last one_. _Shit_! _Murphy, we've got Phantom's inbound_."

Murphy cursed. No one just ever got a break. "Have you and your team sit tight. We'll take care of the phantoms. Or at the very least, distract them."

A confirmed roger came back, and with Keith's eyes looking for a suitable tool to take down a phantom. He spotted and luckily armed with rockets, the M41 SSR MAV/AW Rocket Launcher. He placed his assault rifle on his magnetic accelerated clinches, and hefted the launcher onto his shoulder. He directly felt the weight of the rocket launcher become pressure onto his shoulder. Just something more to add later to the aches and pain.

"Grab the other pair of rocket ammo, Myra. Try and keep the Covenant off me so I can get a decent shot at those phantoms. If we don't take away some of the concentration from the demolition team, or the Covenant will swarm us here soon."

Myra nodded, his silence only explained his character more. A strong, silent type, one with a horrible past maybe, with lots of pain behind the eyes. That now leads him on a road of revenge. Keith lead the way, all the way to the back exit. Several marines lay on kitchen tables that had been rearranged into the room, some dead, others severely wounded. A medic was hustling back and forth to patients who needed his attention. They where halted at the door by another pair of marines like themselves.

"Where are you two going? You can't go out there! The Covenant are everywhere out there, those phantoms have been dropping reinforcements like crazy." His face deathly pale, like death had just been invited to the party.

The other marine, who was somewhat pale for black man, crouch quietly, like in shock, blood steadily ran down his forehead. "We're marines! God dammit, let's act like. We've got to clear some of the Covenant for a demolition team to blow these buildings, or none of us will make it out." Keith all but yelled. "You can either do some good, or sit and wait for the Covenant to kill you!"

Keith instantly felt a soupcon of sorrow dab against his gut. He could see there young eye roll over with fear, something Keith remembered in his first few encounters with the alien juggernaut. He reached his hand out, one of the soldiers took it, shaken, but took it either way. He helped them up, the other standing up, readying their weapons. He nodded to them, and went out, feeling a undulation of heat lavation over him and the others. The quartet was impinge on with heavy resistance. Several different projectiles zipped by them, exploiting them to find nearest cover around. Which, abundantly, was the wreckage of fallen Pelican.

Keith zip lined to the Pelican, with the others in close suit. He pressed his back against the heavy, titanium frame of the Pelican. Myra soon followed, and the other two, who his HMD labeled Private First Class Goddard, and Private First Class Kismet. Before they had taken concealment, he had spotted a phantom hovering around, causing dismay with it's large affixed cannon, and with two smaller, portable one's verisimilar that grunts where manning them.

"You guys keep the Covenant distracted." Keith said to his small team. "I'll try and demolish that phantom, at the least, get it to follow us and lead it away for the demolition team to move."

They nodded, and went to reengage the enemy. Their lead projectile weapons facing off against the unhinged Covenant and there years ahead technology. While Myra and the others distrait them from the left, Keith bordered the right of the Pelican, taking aim from the rocket's sights. Lucky for him, the phantom had paused, probably to focus more on marines and let the gunners get better accuracy. Bearing his shot on one of the anti-gravitational generators on the phantom. He squeezed the trigger and felt the recoil make his muscles and tendons purge with pain. Either the phantom didn't notice the 102mm high explosive anti-tank- shaped charge, or didn't care as it struck the anti-gravitational engine.

Glints of energy flashed as fire consumed the propulsion engine. Keith hopped for a one-hit wonder, but to no avail. It took the rocket very... offensively, as it headed straight towards his position. He cursed as he lined up for another shot. He fired again, watching the tubes recycle to the empty one, a steak of vapor and smoke leaving in the rocket's path. The operator of the phantom, had wised up, this time taking maneuver action to deceit the rocket. He cursed as he called out for Myra.

"I need that ammo! Keep your heads up, phantom incoming!"

Myra nodded, tossing him the heavy load of twin rockets. He barely grasped them decently, without them almost slipping from his grip. But he held on, propping the rocket's ammunition box. He placed in the only two rockets, hoping they would do. He yielded the launcher once more over his shoulder, and took aim at the now, very close phantom. It had already intermeshed with Myra, Goddard and Kismet, splashing heavy doses of concentrated plasma at the trio.

Firing both rockets in rapid succession, they flowed delightfully into the air and exploded right onto the anti-gravitational engine. Fire and steam consumed the object. The rocket launcher fell to the ground from his grip, clanging upon impact as he grabbed his MA5C. A large whining droned over every sound, he cued his comm knowing the future like a prophet.

"Demolition team, move now! Move to the third target!"

A gargled response replied back, the signal dropping in and out at will. Keith ironed his sore back to the plates of the Pelican. The heat had to increase to over one hundred for a split second. He shielded his face with his forearms as the explosion rippled above. Blue fire used-up the air space above, blazing metal aggregate of the phantom fell from the sky. Leaving craters in the ground as they came, one slid near inches from his face as it glissando from the Pelican. Keith exhaled heavily as the others formed up around him, still the Covenant horded all over the area.

Keith fired from his MA5C, the rounds shredding jackals that had there backs turned. Blood spilled from the tiny gaps that hollowed out the back. He waved for the marines to move, to reach the apartment. Goddard and Kismet took point, moving as fast as they could. Dodging plasma fire. Myra and Keith did the same, trying to stay low as they could. A bark of pain yelled out, and Kismet fell, with blood releasing onto the pavement. Kismet gripped his stomach as he frenziedly wailed and lammed about.

Ajar in his viscus, where a set of brute spikes. Blood oozed from the wound as he continued to scream and convulse. Goddard stopped and dropped to a knee, letting his BR55HB pick off target from a range. Myra ran over and knelt next to the maimed man. He quickly assessed the damage as Keith ejected another dry clip and replaced a unspoiled one.

"I'm not a medic, but this is serious here. We need to get him to some medical attention fast."

"Grab him take him." Replied Keith. "Me and Goddard will keep them at bay."

Myra nodded, picking him up as mildly as he could. Kismet yelled out, but was imbibed by blood flowing out. Keith cued his comm as he continued to return fire as a squad of grunts and a lone brute fired at them.

"Checkmate Three. We need a medic on standby, we've got a life-threatening wounded en route to you."

Static crinkled in and out. "_Copy_. _We'll be waiting_."

The Private and Master Sergeant slowly back up, feeling the intensity level sky rocket as more fire was whirled there way. Keith grabbed a dangling grenade, priming and gyration it towards the squad of extraterrestrials. Scattering as the grenade detonated, two grunts became winged like they drank a red bull. While the brute's power armor collapsed from the physical phenomenon of the grenade. Time seem to slow, for what felt like an hour, was twenty seconds. As the aliens where confused, they turned and ran. For what felt like deja vu, it was, reaching the third apartment edifice.

Checkmate Three looked more down sized than the other platoons. Only a smattering few of marines where left, or for what he could tell. Corpses of the dead just littered the area, and even those who weren't still at constant fighting seemed stricken. Keith came face to face with the demolition team, the four of them looked almost as battered as they did. Blood, cuts, stains and sweat. It was awful what war would do.

"Just two more complex's left." One said.

"Where splitting up." Keith stated. "We don't have the time. Myra! Goddard!"

The two marines, Goddard's black face has sadness written all over. Worried about his friend. It was always tough to lose someone. "Your going with part of the demolition team to the last apartment. I'll be escorting the other half to the next apartment."

Keith felt the affects of weariness start poke away at him. He shook his head slightly, feeling vexation mature around his head. He gripped his weapon tighter, checking himself to stay focused. The group left, leaving Checkmate Three to hold the area further. They exited out the back once more, this time the group splitting, four off them to different area than the other three. The journey for Keith and his team, was rather easy, barely running into any opposition, the most was a trio of grunts and some drones. With their lives ended in a blink of an eye.

Other than that, there trip was simple. They reached the fourth apartment building, greeted by Checkmate Four. Keith took a swing of water and listened to the Lieutenant of the platoon as the demolition team was setting up the charges.

"You look like you've been hell." Gunfire crackled from one of the marines, sounding off it was just a grunt.

"_Murphy, status on the mission_!" Gunfire hung heavily over the comm. The Covenant just wouldn't give up.

"We're just finishing up the last two buildings!"

Another voice crackled in, it was Myra. "_We've finished placing the charges_. _We're ready to proceed with the objective_."

Murphy felt a grin ace across his face, he hadn't had one in awhile. "Captain. We're ready to proceed, all charges are set."

"_Good_. _I'm about to give the order_!"

And then, Cole gave out a Company wide order. All over the comm. "_All units_. _We are falling back to an extraction point_. _You have five minutes, repeat, you have five minutes_. Coordinates_ will be marked on your_-"

The link cut out in an explosion that was ear splitting, Keith covering his ears in result. Screams echoed out, and then muteness fell over the line. Not a single word. Keith cursed as he opened up the comm channel once more, several frantic voice yelled out.

"Does anyone have a visual on the Captain?" He yelled, the room was quiet, and then the air broke in plasma fire.

"Phantom!"

"_Shit!_ _Everyone out out out, now!_" A voice screamed over the comm. "_Apartment one just fucking collapsed from Scarab!_"

Phonation scrambled over the comm, many falling from confusion. The Captain and his platoon, dead. Nothing would have survived a blast from a Scarab. Keith knew that. Yet again, another firefight had broken out, duplicate phantom where unwavering pouring infantry and supplies. Keith flipped his comm channels.

"Myra! Get your team out! Fall back to the position marked on your NAV!"

"_We've engaged hostiles_!" Said Myra. "_There about to surround us_!"

"Pull back! Everyone fall back!" Keith screamed.

Marines from inside his own building slowly starting to retreating, out-manned, and simply didn't have the supplies or firepower to hold position. Keith emptied out the building. Matching as plasma grenades fell from the sky itself. Several where caught in it's blast radius. Many becoming vaporized in shrieks or becoming charred corpses. Others where cut down from the sheer-amount of hostile fire. Keith felt his entire soul just collapse, all his hard word, was almost for nothing.

"Everyone scramble! Get to somewhere safe and hole up! Make it to the extraction point if you can!"

Keith felt his stomach drop as he hopped over a fence, rolled down a hill into a park type area. Several others where around him, some formed upon him, others sprinted to the extraction point in hopes for survival.

"Someone blow the charges!" He yelled over the comm. "Someone do it now!"

And then the ground itself shook violently, Keith lost his footing again, slipping as he ran closer to the extraction point. And with Covenant forces right on there heels. Off in the distance, a mushroom cloud rippled over the complex of apartments. Keith merely just stopped and stared. The charges wouldn't off just caused that. His thoughts still boiled as other stopped and look, with a blinding white light just rushing over them, and then nothing.

-

Darkness occupied his thoughts. His mind; at a placid. He couldn't even feel his body. Was he dead? Was this the after life? To just float in a eternity of thoughts and collection? Sergeant Paul Jackson wasn't entirely sure. He felt his thought's prominence for what seemed like everlasting itself. But at least, there was finally peace. Something he hadn't felt in awhile. It was nice for a change. He looked back over the preceding couple of days. Coming over to the Middle Eastern dominion, not to wage war. If they could, they would of avoided the conflict all together. The objective was to capture Khaled Al-Asad, he practically had the Middle East in his palm.

The mentation of pure peace, was pleasant. It just felt like his entire body was molded with his soul, and blossomed into a beautiful, tranquil essence. Even with such a halcyon feeling swirling around him, another noise just whistled out. It almost interrupted his train of thought completely. It peeved Paul greatly, it sounded like... wind. Was there wind in the afterlife? A flash of memories waved across his mind, saving the pilot. The nuclear explosion. Everyone dieing. He didn't want to die. Not at the moment anyway.

If there was an air current, maybe he wasn't dead after all. He tried for any sort of motility. And was rushed over with pain and a fiery sensation. The pain means he was alive, not dead at all. He felt the tips of his measly fingers move. It was the tip of iceberg. Bit by bit the feelings in his body came back. Starting with his fingers, then his arms, his chest. And it was just a joyous, and agonizing sensation. He was cheerful in a sense to find he was alive, but miserable to find out every muscle, every bone cried in pain.

Paul slowly, opened up his burning eyelids, to face the reality of a gray sky. A gray sky didn't exactly fit the description of the red sea he was swimming in not along ago. Or was it long ago? Paul had no idea what the time, or the day was for that fact. How long he was out could anyone's guess. Forcing the aching muscles to sit himself up, he observed his environment carefully, and with a little more confusion as he rubbing on his bicep's trying to sooth the muscular tissue. He sat up in a field of grass, the wind blew somewhat, slapping his in the face. He felt the light presence of his M4A1 Carbine on his lap, he wasn't quiet sure how it got there, but he was happy with it.

He checked over the weapon, deeming it in fighting condition. And the clip was surprising full, but he didn't have any spare clips. He wish he knew where the others were. If there where any others. He'd like even corpses just to know his Company's fate. He supported himself to his feet, and slowly shimmied up a hill, which caused his calf muscles to persecute a horrid feeling. He growling as he reached the top, leaning up against a black, metal fence. At least he was out of the baking heat, the soft touch of shade liquescent on him.

As he ran his bare hand across his hair, it was dense with perspiration. And he felt his comm still attached to his ear. He exhaled some war breath as he leaned up more against the fence, prompting his comm as electrostatic dinged.

"This is Sergeant..." Paul wheezed out, still not contracting all his breath. "Sergeant Paul Jackson. USMC Force Recon 1st Company, Theta Platoon. Is anyone receiving this message, please respond."

Only mellow static replied, he cursed and restated it. With the identical answer he got the first time. He cursed once more and groaned as he strained himself to climb over the fence. He did so, but not with out descending and landing right onto his right thigh. He gritted his teeth as his face clenched up almost as vise-like as his muscle and tendons did. He laid there for a moment, recollecting himself as the pain subsided. Trying to think of his next course of action. Should he continue on, and try to find someone? Or should he just lay here and hope for the best?

He struggled to his knees, the sound of rubble sliding sounded of not far. He lurked for his weapon, and raised it. Scanning for anything, but he saw nothing, he kept the Carbine tight to him, but lowered it to relax.

"Identify yourself!" a voice called out from a razed building. The person or persons' hiding in the debris.

Paul elevated the Carbine into firing position once more, calling out. "Sergeant Paul Jackson, USMC Force Recon First Company. Theta Platoon!" He yelled back in response.

He wasn't sure incisively who he was talking to. But a trio of marine looking figures. They had weapons he had never seen pointed at him, the design of the weapon reminded him of the FN 2000 assault rifle. But was clearly different. Jackson kept his weapon pointed, but if they decided to fire, they'd lay waste to him before he could probably squeeze his own trigger.

"Who are you!" Paul yelled, the armed men slowly coming closer.

"Corporal Jason Myra. UNSCMC. Lower your weapon!" He answered back.

Paul hesitated for a minute. Unsure if he could trust them, but if he didn't worse come to worse they'd shoot him and move on. He complied, placing the weapon on the ground. And the trio of equipped soldiers moved it. They didn't treat him like an enemy. It was almost the opposite.

"Are you okay? You need medical attention?" The one named Myra asked, crouching next to him.

Paul shook his head, as one of them helped Paul to his sore feet. The other grabbed his Carbine, inspected it, and handed back to Paul. Not deeming a threat to themselves. They stood for a moment, eyes wandering back and forth.

"Did you receive my message?" Paul asked, feel blood start to shape in his mouth, giving him that atrocious taste.

"No. All the comm's are down. We happen to find you by coincidence." Replied Myra.

Paul thought of the EMP blast, it must have fried almost every piece of electronic equipment in a three-mile radius. He looked at there armor, it was almost as beat up as him, and was also very different from him. Not to mention, he wondered what the UNSCMC was?

"So who precisely are you guys? I don't recognize your uniform or the UNSCMC?"

They all looked at him wildly. Another one spoke up, his black face just spilled with dried blood from old cuts and abrasions. "I could ask you almost the same thing. Is that a new MA5 model?"

Jackson let his eyes flash through the group-confused. "No. It's the M4A1 Carbine?"

The conversation died instantly at a loud screech. The group turned to the noise. The three UNSCMC soldiers, instantly yelled out and scattered for cover. Paul stood there, frozen for instant, trying to figure out if his eye's cozened him. Three, vulture and raptor-like creatures stood there, holding some sort of radiance shield, the colors where mixed a blueish green. It could almost be considered mesmerizing, the creatures, if they stood at full, had to be approximately six foot or so. Paul was 6'5 himself. Behind these creatures, where others, about six of them. They where almost a foot smaller than the other creatures. Around five foot, with some sort of tank on there back, with re-breather mask affiliated on their small faces.

One of the creatures fired at him. Pink shards lined up jaggedly at the tips of toes, and then setting off in pink fog that made himself jump. He scampered to the safety of rubble with the others. His dyspneic breathing made his lungs feel like they would conflagrate. Behind what was left a stone wall, he curled into a ball as Myra next to him, was returning fire. He couldn't believe his eyes. Aliens? What the hell could of happened. A yell cried out, Jackson watched the unnamed marine fall from a green blob some sorts. He armor delapidated, and the flesh where he had been hit melted and sizzled to a boiling point where the blood flowed out. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"We could use some help!" Goddard yelled, firing a different, longer look rifle. It's silken, black design was thickset, firing three-round burst with a scope a top of the weapon.

Paul poised himself, assembling his fear and throwing it out for the minute. He shoulder his M4A1, and parting the cover to return gunfire. He took sight upon one of the smaller one extraterrestrial beings. Aiming down the sights, he squeezed the trigger slenderly, a small salvo of hot tracers riptide into it. Blue blood sullied the grass it tumbled into. He withdrew back into cover, and more pink shards floated into the wall above. It exploded in dust and debris, Paul hurling and hacking as the dust intoxicated his lungs. His eyes moire, he felt the liquid swell in his eyes.

But the small skirmish carried on. Gunfire and plasma swapped. A few more grunts and jackals falling. Puddles of blood formed, from the constant dripping of the wounds. One of the grunts seemed to have seized a sphere shaped object from somewhere on it, Paul had gut feeling it was a grenade. And the impression was spot on this time around. Energizing the grenade in some manner, it glowed a exuberant blue as thrust midair.

"Grenade!"

The deuce-ace dispersed, Goddard and Myra fleeing off to the left. While Paul, who's reflex's weren't still at full capability, barely got out of the area as the small device went off. He never felt such a fusillade, the temperature maximizing to the point where it couldn't get hotter. Air became twisted into residue, electric arced as Paul felt himself lifted off the ground. Smacking back into the Earth, he felt his senses daze, just for a second as he spun to his side, the Carbine raised and firing the last few bullets in the clip a single approaching alien. Stunned with fright, and no weapon, Jackson thought he was going to join the dead for good this time.

A nuclear explosion wouldn't kill him, but a scrawny, bird-like alien would turn him into charcoal. It placed itself meters from Paul. And squawked as it lifted it's arm, which look like it had a tough time doing, and pointed it's weapon at Paul. Staring it dead in the eyes, he did something he didn't even anticipate himself to do; move. He rotation his hips quickly, catching the alien off guard. It squalled as it became virtually weightless, airborne for a moment from Paul's omnipotent kick. It's gun fired dispatched various shots, but all sailed up into the sky as it came crashing down.

Paul dove onto the creature, taking him back to his high school days of fighting and wrestling, the only sport he had ever played. Either, it's allies hadn't seen or heard, or where distracted and/or dead. Because the struggle between the two made all sorts of noise. It was much stronger than Paul had initially thought. But he was still much more virile. Paul swung his right fist with all his might, copulative on the large beak and jaw of the vulture. It cragfast back, the chela of the creature scrapping along his right down towards his nose.

"You son of a bitch!" He yelled out in anger as he felt the blood trickle down his face.

He smashed his fist twice more into the creature as hacked at his neck, trying to get the finishing blow. He scooted back, not before the tips of claws scratched his neck, drawing more blood. He came back with another hook, looking around for something to bash the creature with. The closes thing was the weapon the creature had. He stretched for it, and felt a palm smack the back of his head sharply. His head bounced against the grass, turning to land an elbow against the creature. Tearing the craniate off him long enough to clutch the weapon firmly.

He inverted onto his back, whipping the small hand-held weapon with every ounce of muscle. It squawked once more, falling to ground. Holding where the weapon had butted. Paul kneed it in it's armor gut, watching the air speed from it's pharynx. And continued to beat the creature till it fell still, purple blood covering every inch of it's face. Panting heavily, he got up and walked away from the creature. Noticing more corpses of aliens in addition to the ones before. Myra and Goddard rejoined him.

They didn't say anything, even as the blood still ran cleanly down his face. There wasn't much to do without supplies. "Let's move before more of the bastards show up." Myra stated, pulling out a pistol from his holster.

He handed it Paul. "M6G Personal Defense Weapon System. It's not much, but it'll do for now. We're not positive, but there might be an extraction sight not to far off, hopefully at the least, some more survivors. On the way there, I want to hear your story."

Taking the pistol, it felt naturally comfortable in his hand. Reminding him of the potent, Desert Eagle. He checked the clip, fetching a few more surplus clips of ammunition, they took off. Retracing Paul's steps not long ago. On the journey, Paul told his story. Of his tale through the Middle East. The crashed Super Cobra. And the nuclear explosion and then the blinding white light.

"Blinding white light?" Goddard spat. "Something similar like that had happen to us. We set off some C-12 charges, which blew up some apartments we where just at. I'm not certain what happen, but a bright white light ran over us. And then me, Myra and Harlan woke up, next to a shit load of Covenant. So we killed them while they where out too, and met up with you."

"So, what exactly is the UNSCMC?"

Myra cleared his throat as they moved through another patch of grass. "United Nations Space Command Marine Corps. We'll from what I can tell, you have somehow managed to travel through time."

It sounded very disbelieving, but in a sense it made much sense. "Huh." Paul stated, not much surprised after brutally killing an alien face to face with it's own weapon.

The stench of death hung heavy in the air. Walking past several corpses, both human and alien. A heavy waged skirmish had clashed here. Shell casing and mars cluttered the ground and ravaged corpses. They continued on.

"What happened? What year is it? And what's with the aliens?"

"Well, to answer the first question. It's 2553. And, for the second. Well that's a story."

2553? Jeez, Paul's heart bobbled up and down. It was somewhat upsetting knowing, the Earth he once knew, was gone. Developed in the future far beyond anything he might have imagined. He listened to Myra as the three continued down a pavement road.

Humanity was in a thirty year long war with alien coalition known as the Covenant. Having killing billions. Destructing many worlds humanity had colonized on. And the worse, humanity was losing. Earth, was it's last stop and hope for survival. It was grim situation. There was so much more, it's just so much to take in at one time. Jackson breathed very slowly as they managed to strive to there goal. There wasn't much that was worth to strive to there for.

Remains and bodies disheveled the soft soil. Blood cut thickly in patches of bushes and grass in the football sized field of grass. Assorted air craft aspect secular on the ground. Impoverished. The aircraft where dubbed 'Pelicans' drop ships used to extradite troops onto the battlefield and provide support. Many supplies lay distributed, nearly all dispensed or battered beyond use. And only a few more UNSC marines wandered around, collecting anything of use. A weary looking soldier came up to them, there wasn't a spot that had saturated in blood or wounds on him.

"Finally, I was starting to think we we're the only ones left." He said, turning back to his maltreated squad. Jackson, looked at the man. Pale, young, shaking. He hadn't been in much action. Soldiers like these turned up when times where crucial.

"Well." Myra grumbled. "We'll salvage what we can. Rest for short time. And we'll move out. Hopefully we can get a comm signal out or link up with others."

The man nodded, going back to looking for utile provisions. Paul felt something press against his chest mildly. He looked down, and perceived the MRE. He felt his stomach lurch for the food. But he just stood there.

"Take it. You'll need some strength for the trip."

Paul nodded, and taking the charity kindly. Falling to his ass in the shade as he opened the Meal Ready to Eat. The food didn't look to appetizing, nor have the best odor. But it was filling. But at least he was out of the heat.

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Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter remake. Leave reviews. Any tips, ideas maybe you want to throw out or questions, please feel free to ask.


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